Alone
by Reichenfallen
Summary: A man stands at the grave of his best friend and tells him how he truly feels (I can't write summarys for shit!) Post Reichenbach Johnlock (Because I don't care Angsty Post Reichenbach will forever be my favourite!)


**As you all well know. These characters do not belong to me they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and in this incarnation to the BBC and it's writers!**

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Wind was whipping through the graveyard empty except for a lone man stood in front of a black marble headstone. He hardly seemed to notice the cold subconsciously pulling his coat closer to his thin frame. He had been standing there for so long that his legs were becoming stiff, but still he couldn't find the words to say or bring himself to walk away. How could he say what had been on his mind these past weeks, how he knew it was his fault his best friend was dead and how he could never apologise and tell him how he truly felt.

Finally as dusk was settling on the empty graveyard and the only sound were the cars in the distance 2 streets away, the birds looking to nest for the night and the wind whipping through the trees, he spoke.

"Why would you do this?" He asked staring at the headstone in front of him. He knew talking to a grave wasn't logical and that he would get no response back, he'd never understood when people in films or tv did it but it was different when you were in their place, when you were the one who lost a loved one.

"What possessed you to do it? I know things were bad, believe me I know, but it was going to get better and soon. I promise you. If you'd held on a little longer things would have improved. Now I'm alone. Sure I have Lestrade, Molly and Mrs Hudson but it's not the same. I don't care for them like I care for you, like I _cared _for you. I was so alone before you came into my life, before you lit it up with friendship and laughter and I l... I love" he took a deep breath and felt his chest shudder.

"I love you" Tears were slipping down his face now. He swiped the back of his hand roughly against his cheek to catch the droplets before pressing his face into his hands, digging the heels into his eyes trying to stop the flow.

"I never got the chance to tell you that, and now, now it's too late. I never knew until you left how dark my life was and how much you lit it up so golden and pure. You burst in bringing friendship and laughter with you. Now your gone again and I've been left in the dark once more, only this time it's 10 times darker because I know what the light looks like. It's been burnt onto my retinas and I can see nothing, no other light in my life apart from the faint glow left from the that which I had with you.' He tried to laugh, god it sounded so cheesy, something he may have mocked in the past 'Look at how much you've changed my life, changed it for the better, how could you leave me alone now?"

"If I could have the chance to go back, to before you took your life. I would no longer be afraid. I'd tell you how I truly felt about you. I'd hold you close and I would never let you go. I want the chance to go back, to wake up in the mornings next to you with your arm around me. I want to watch your breathing as you sleep. To sit at the table and talk over a morning tea. To go back to running through London after criminals with you. To giggle at crime scenes no matter how inappropriate it is. To go to cafes for dinner or to sit in on the sofa with a take away. I want the last thing I say to you at the end of each day to be I love you and then to go to sleep with you holding me so I know that your there even if I can't see you in the dark." He gave up on trying to hold back the flow of his tears by now letting them slip down his cheeks _'People will talk,' _came the echo in his mind, but he cared little for what people may think if they saw him here, it wasn't like some of them hadn't seen it coming, he just wished that he had done before it became too late.

The night was starting to creep up on him, he could see the streetlight just beyond the fence, a faint warm light that didn't quite reach where he sat. He knew that he should really be going now he had things to do and organise but his body resisted, what he really wanted to do was just curl up by the gravestone with his back against it and pretend that he could reach down to where his best friend, the man he loved, lay in the ground.

I'm home John but now it will never truly be home, I've come to realise that home is warm oatmeal jumpers, the smell of tea and that infectious smile of yours. You were the kindest and bravest man I've known, that I will ever know. '

He knelt down next to the headstone and placed a hand on the cold, smooth surface. 'I just wish that you'd waited, just one more month. I'm so sorry that I left you alone. I thought that I'd have no choice, that until Moriarty's web was destroyed I'd be keeping you safe this way, that maybe, even if it broke my heart maybe you'd move on and find a family. I know I have a heart now, you taught me that and because of this it will always belong to you. I'm so sorry John.' Sherlock's fingers traced over the inscription which read.

_Captain John Hamish Watson MD._

_A Loyal and Brave Friend._

_You will be missed._

'It's okay though John, you won't be alone for long.' Sherlock said getting slowly up to his feet. 'I have plans to make now, but I'll see you soon. Very soon.'


End file.
